All That Matters
by FreezePride
Summary: Characters: Aeleus (Lexaeus), Ienzo (Zexion) When it comes down to the final few moments, what is it really that you're depending on?


His eyes were closed but he felt oddly unaware of that fact, as though he could see past the earth which was pressed up against his face. Aeleus could feel all of the dirt and his own weight against it even despite his exhaustion, his being covered with sweat, grime and yes, that ever familiar, metallic stickiness of blood. He could smell it above the scent of darkness, of desperation but these were subtle comforts. No, the most worrying fact was that it nearly covered the scent of Ienzo kneeling nearby. Blood was strange in that sense; it was a comfort to know that it was there but it had that oddly inconvenient habit of leaking away at the most inopportune moments.

Ienzo gazed listlessly down at him, one eye colored gray in the overcast sky as the wind blew gently over his form. Calm weather, how refreshing. The wind had died down at Aeleus could only assume that Dilan was somewhere on the other side of the Great Maw, unconscious. He hoped he had finally reached him this time now that he had finally had the blessed chance to speak with his brother in arms, to talk him down from the internal strife which was consuming him. He had only spoken the truth at the end of their battle and their exchange of anger and blows had been something blind, something visceral, and so very far beyond what he had thought himself capable. Somewhere deep within him, he had been expecting this though.

Yet Ienzo persisted. His single, visible slate gray eye seemed to demand some sort of answer, some justification as Aeleus finally forced himself into a shadow of consciousness. Gods, he felt so _tired_ but Ienzo needed him right now. He couldn't afford to sleep yet.

But soon...

"Why would you do this?" Ienzo's voice was even, soft and so carefully monotone. Aeleus could hear the fact that he was not even looking at him. He didn't even dare to touch the broken man before him, perhaps because he already knew. "You wanted to save your friend." Ienzo answered his own question in a voice barely above a sigh. It was certain death to challenge a man in the throes of darkness, and better yet one which claimed to have a need for 'vengeance'. Dilan had re-awoken to be a fearfully adapt fighter, but when he had been born again to the darkness in his weakness for Xigbar's will, his powers had become downright monstrous. Aeleus could not let that stand. He knew that Dilan was a better individual than that, far better than the lancer was willing to admit.

There was a shuffle, and somewhere in the distance Aeleus felt the soft patter of delicate, rushed footsteps against the ground. He felt the vibrations of the earth within his very bones, and something about this stranger's approach was oddly comforting. He sensed an urgency, but a calm understanding to go with it. Ienzo shifted nearby him, sensing the newcomer but seemingly unrelenting in his hopelessness.

"Go back. Get Aerith." Ienzo couldn't have sounded colder. The footsteps faltered, slowed slightly, but they did not stop. If only he could open his eyes for longer than a few fleeting moments, but everything about him felt so spent, so taxed to the point of being dreamily blurred. Aeleus had gone past the feeling of tired and into something like an dazed euphoria. He hoped that this adrenaline would continue. He knew the second it wore away, the pain of the Dragonlance through his torso would surely tear him apart. For now, he hardly felt it. It was the little comforts of life, after all, he reflected, choosing to ignore the growing sensation of stickiness at his midsection. Choosing instead to think of Ienzo sitting right there nearby, his hand inches from his own.

"I said, Go back." Ienzo was normally so composed yet there was a remarkable tightness to his words. He could almost picture the crease in his delicate brow as he spoke, his tired expression, but wickedly attentive eyes flashing with a promise of madness.

"I'm here to help." Soft, calm female voice. Just as Aeleus suspected, Yuna had come.

"Then go get Aerith. That will help." Ienzo all but demanded. Aeleus wanted to comfort him, to hold him back. Their time together was painfully short, and as his shock ebbed away and he felt the extent to which he had thrown himself into the arms of destruction, he only felt the overwhelming, longing need to _tell him_. His hand twitched and he opened his mouth to speak, but in a cruel twist of fate, he found himself in a cloying, choked silence, bereft of the words which had had always found so unwieldy to begin with, but ones which were so very necessary. Blood was clogging his system now, and he felt it's metallic twinge blocking out speech. Strange that he should now be fading in the same way that he had lived, silently.

"I must help." Yuna persisted. Ienzo growled something that didn't even remotely sound like words, just something low, enraged and exhausted. Or perhaps it was just his mind that was swimming. He kept seeing a small child, looking up at him, smiling, asking for to be carried on his shoulders. The sunlight had been so bright back then, streaming through the leaves of the garden, turning golden light into verdant, fresh green. Truth be told, as flattered as he was, he couldn't have even cared less for Yuna's help. No, his hand was grasping at the space next to him, hoping to find something, anything, even if his eyes could not quite open.

"I will not let you send him." His voice was not a scream or a shriek. It was not even a slight yell. Ienzo whispered, his voice was barely above a seething hiss. He was deadly calm in that second, and there was something remarkably dangerous about him. Ienzo was not to be trifled with in such a state. The boy was brilliant and powerful, a threatening combination. Aeleus finally found his hand, his smaller, precious hand and Ienzo all but jumped in fright.

Aeleus wanted to apologize. For his failures, for his weakness, for his need to save his brother, that this could not have ended in any different way. He felt the tension of the hand beneath his own loosen and a shudder run through those delicate digits. He felt that wickedness breaking away just as any poorly crafted facade does eventually when put to the test.

Ienzo was here. It proved far more than he could even imagine. That was all that mattered.


End file.
